


Reciprocity

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beta Read, Cryptical Will, Doorknob repair, M/M, Mention of fantasies, Oblivious Hannibal, Post-Season/Series 03, Pursue of their romantic connection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Unlike Hannibal, Will might not believe that the idyllicrenaissance, which followed their traumatic encounter with the ocean, has elevated their previously separated lives to an entirelly reciprocal coexistence; like Hannibal, Will has his cryptical way to express himself.





	Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> I’m glad I relied on [Phenobarbital](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenobarbital/pseuds/Phenobarbital), before I posted this work. It needed corrections :/ as usual

Mincing parsley with practiced hands, Hannibal ogled his entirely recovered companion as he returned from their basement with the frozen cut of meat his recipe required, then watched him casually lean on their kitchen table, studying his repetitive motion.

“When I provided the ingredients for the first time, back in Baltimore,” Will began, bringing them back in time, to another life, to another kitchen, “I didn’t realize I was fulfilling one of your unconscious fantasies.” Will was not above stealing bits of food during his dinner preparations, which made him a terrible sous-chef, but for some reason he refrained from such barbaric habits before serious conversations.

Hannibal suspected Will had been wondering about this detail of his personality for a while, yet purposefully avoided accusing him of _liking_ to play the housekeeper waiting home for his hunter to come back with venison and pheasants, uncertain how his pride would have dealt with his argument, unflattering as it may have sounded.

After all those years, Hannibal still feared and adored those sharp, unforgiving eyes. “Your pleasure of providing amplifies mine in elevating your purchase,” Hannibal averted his gaze, feigning interest in his fine mince. “I relish the occasional inversion of position in our constantly changing dynamic. It enriches both of our perspectives.”

“I doubt you’d ever enjoy my culinary skills, if this is your subtle way of telling me you want me to cook,” Will ironized, before asserting with humourless inflection, “but you certainly would appreciate my efforts in trying.”

Given their similar backgrounds, Hannibal found it hardly surprising that Will understood his desire to rely on someone acquitted to the concept of _starvation_ , thinking about an adequate feeder. Trusting Will with such a role, as well as his partner in crime, acknowledged an unspoken, profound faith Hannibal longed to manifest, for anyone to recognize. Hannibal waited for many long years, before lingering in such bold, possessive claims on his dear Will.

“Besides, I wouldn’t mind broadening our respective influences beyond the kitchen floor,” Will added, complicity in his engaging voice. “Role reversal could produce interesting results in other contexts, as well.”

Considering possible interpretations of such an affirmation, Hannibal contemplated scenarios that didn’t involve their complete involvement; he had difficulty imagining Will had started the argument because of a sudden urge to mentor him in the fine art of fly-tying. Abandoning his false pretence of mincing his already perfectly fine mince, Hannibal turned towards Will, curious. “Such as?”

Quite cryptically, Will answered, “I leave that to your imagination, Doctor Lecter.”

 

 

Hannibal so loved a challenge. His easily bored mind could effortlessly follow multiple lines of thought at once, so he often lingered on Will’s apparently harmless tease. With an obvious excuse, he tried to leave Will in charge of some of his usual occupation, excluding the previously discussed culinary field, such as the periodical control of their healed injuries or the disposal of their victims’ organs. His interaction with canine company had been reduced to a minimum in the past years, but Hannibal tried to rectify his own reluctance for dog hair and bask in the chaotic presence of their dogs.

Dreading Will’s accuse of not thoroughly engaging in every aspect of their shared existence, refusing interactions that could lead to an even profounder form of codependency, Hannibal explored implausible changes in their routine, conceding slight changes in their killing habits, for the sake of his little experimentation, before admitting that his scrupulous method was perceived as more proficient and satisfying by both their accounts.

When Will surprised him by messing with his tool box one time too many, in a tentative attempt at familiarizing with their uncooperative bathroom doorknob, he bluntly declared, “This is _not_ what you nor I are looking for.”

 

 

Hannibal caught Will masturbating afterwards, because neither of them addressed said problematic door handle; despite Hannibal’s profuse apologies, Will didn’t seem entirely satisfied with their predicament.

His whispered curses still resounded in some of the corridors of Hannibal’s memory palace, and he suspected Will knew.

 

 

“I guess I’ve been misleading,” Will admitted over breakfast, days apart from their accidental encounter in exceptional circumstances. “I clearly overestimated your fantasy,” he stabbed his eggs with uncharacteristic resentment, an annoying note of disappointment in his tone, which Hannibal honestly doubted was necessary.

“I thought my remarks were quite evident, _tacky_ even,” Will confronted his coffee hastily, without savouring its fragrant aroma, driving Hannibal a little bit crazier, “but apparently you don’t get the hint, when you’re not the one giving it.”

Hannibal questioned Will’s sudden, unnecessarily provocative attitude, wondering whether his recent interest in Will’s manual duties had come across as inopportune. Slightly worried, not entirely motivated to reproach his rudeness, Hannibal sought out his forked hand and gently prompted him to release the utensil. “Will,” he drew his reluctant attention, “what are you talking about?”

Judging by the blatant vexation in his eyes, Hannibal should have been glad he promptly disposed of the fork, otherwise it would probably have been stuck across the palm of his hand at this point. Will had that angry, familiar look, which promised sufferance and coldness.

Uncaring for his warm cup of coffee, dangerously close to the edge of the table, Will grasped his wrist with an iron grip and struggled to catch Hannibal’s neck. Having obtained control on Hannibal’s upper body, Will proceeded to crash their mouths together in a rather aggressive demonstration of affection; one Hannibal hadn’t expected.

“I’m talking about reciprocity, Hannibal,” Will rumbled against his lips, before he disentangled him from the unnecessary hold. “I’m talking about considering your supposedly romantic feelings for me are _not_ unrequited, unless Bedelia had been speculating to get on my nerves all along; in all likelihood she did, I don’t even know at this point,” Will kept rambling on, undeterred by Hannibal’s silence. Hannibal didn’t interrupt him, still caught up in the impression of Will’s lips on his own.

 

 

After selecting a straightforward way to convey his own unmistakable interest in Will’s blunt advances, Hannibal devoted an intense afternoon to casually maiming the doorknob of his own bedroom, industriously sabotaging it in an apparently incidental manner. Hannibal had admired Will’s impeccable job with the bathroom, he found it worth imitating.

When he remained closed inside his own room, demonstrating the self-inflicted malfunction to Will, Hannibal knew his time had been well spent; even if he wanted to, he couldn’t get out, if not through the window.

Waiting for Will to get his tools in their basement, Hannibal sat on the floor, back to the door, and unbuckled his own belt; he patiently held his hand until Will’s muffled steps sounded on the corridor, before unzipping his trousers.

“I can’t believe you got stuck in there,” Will softly admitted against the defective door handle after Hannibal circled his own soft penis. “I guess sometimes it happens to the best of us, too.” His attention was concentrated on another urgent issue, so Will once again didn’t notice his telling silence.

Hearing his voice helped Hannibal concentrate on his own task at hand, coaxing seminal fluid with increasingly slick fingers. Convincing moans required adequate preparation, before affecting their still oblivious listener.

“I’m not kidding, Hannibal,” Will suddenly got serious, “I don’t believe this is a coincidence.”

As Hannibal softly begun to vocalize his languid pleasure with open-mouthed sighs and unequivocal whimpers, much different from Will’s animalistic grunts and seductively shameless self-encouragements, his hand cupped his balls and prevented his sticky humours from soiling the seat of his pants.

“Hannibal,” Will’s voice trembled, “tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

Acoustics had partly helped Hannibal decide to stage his own performance in this room; the regular, obscene sounds coming from his foreskin sliding down the head of his cock, running along his entire length, reverberated in his room, in his ears, in Will’s, combining with the mechanical clicks and grunts on the other side of the door.

“You’re rarely mistaken,” Hannibal increased his speed, “I always had complete faith,” but it wasn’t the hand Hannibal wanted on his dick, “in the reliability of your hypothesis, Will.”

When Will managed to break in, Hannibal refrained from seeking further his delayed orgasm, handling with insistent caresses his prominent erection. Looking at him from above, Will seemed to have difficulty in finding the right words. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m showing you reciprocity,” Hannibal said, lying on his back, “I’m fulfilling one of your recondite fantasies.”

Slowly sinking to his level, Will reached out with uncertain fingers to touch his exposed fuzz, running his sweaty palm on warm skin. “And what would that be?”

“You’re a boy of simple taste, Will,” Hannibal declared, taking his indecisive hand where he so desired. “For now, I’d venture you want us to sleep in the same room.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooner or later I’ll master the art of creating Decent Photosets; until then, [this](https://cinnamaldeide.tumblr.com/post/171385724224/reciprocity) is all I’m capable of...


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